Everybody I talk to is ready to leave
with the light of the morning.
They've seen the end coming down long enough to believe.
They've heard their last warning.
Standing alone,
each has his own ticket in his hand.
And as the evening descends,
I sit thinking about every man.
Seem like I've always been looking for
some other place to get it together.
Where with a few of my friends I could give up the race,
maybe find something better.
But all my fine dreams,
where I find out schemes to gain the motherland,
have all eventually
come down to waiting for every man.
Waiting here for every man.
Make it on your own if you think you can.
If you see somewhere to go,
I understand.
Waiting here for every man.
Don't ask me,
feel sure.
I don't know.
Make it on your own if you think you can.
Somewhere later on you'll have to take a stand.
Then you're gonna need a hand.
Everybody's just waiting to hear from
the one who can give them the answers.
And lead them back to that place in the warmth
of the sun where sweet childhood still dances.
But who'll come along and hold out
that strong but gentle father's hand.
Long
ago I heard someone say something about every man.
Waiting here for every man.
Make it on your own.
Make it if you think you can.
If you see somewhere to go,
I understand.
I'm not trying to tell you that I've seen the plan.
Try to walk away if you think I am.
But don't think too badly of one who's left holding the sand.
He's just another dreamer,
dreaming about every man.